The Bank of a Far Away Stream

Artwork by Skulz

Well, it’s the first day of the Eid al-Adha. Sort or a combination of Easter and Christmas for Muslims. Artificial smiles are on everyone’s lips as God mercifully uses them to hide what we really feel.  I am all alone fighting my own devils. I flee from the battlefield by sleeping as much as I can. Finally it is night time.
My room, my candle. Like a woman possessed I put on my purple earrings hoping they will help bring back pleasant memories from a chilly country I once loved so much.  All I want to do now is to collapse and put my face into the snow. Or even better, to run till I am ought of breath and then throw myself down onto the bank of a far  away stream.
Even now people are still exchanging holiday greetings in hushed tones – almost like a lullaby – and I calm down a bit. I quietly curl up on my sofa while the question in the story I’ve just finished reading keeps ringing in my years. The heroine’s answer is my answer too.
“Real.”
Mayada al-Shareef